


chicken wings and broken things

by antikytheras



Series: (genji voice) merry christmas! [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Crack, Emotional Constipation, Gen, M/M, but zen gets lots of screentime too, christmas shenanigans, genyatta's a background thing this focuses more on the bros, honestly its kind of but not really crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antikytheras/pseuds/antikytheras
Summary: When Hanzo walks into the room, the last thing he expects to see is his brother obligingly dressed up as a Christmas tree.





	chicken wings and broken things

When Hanzo walks into the room, the last thing he expects to see is his brother obligingly dressed up as a Christmas tree.

In their youth, he and his brother had had many disagreements over the appropriate way to celebrate the Western holiday. The clan had always been more than happy for any occasion to flex their impressive accretion of wealth (and a wholly unnecessary collection of foreign how-is-this-alive flora) and so they had dove into the holiday with a sort of dignified aplomb. Hanzo had done his best to grit his teeth and bear with the multitude of progressively-flashier dinner parties and roast turkey that got progressively-blander with each polite bite, but Genji, the self-absorbed, charming little _piece_ _of_ _shit_ , had wheedled his way out of every family celebration that, according to the fluid-dynamic rules of their little golden world, did not dictate the need for the full clan presence.

No, Genji had always preferred to spend his time with a seemingly fixed set of a few stupid-loyal friends and an ever-changing assortment of adoring boys-and-girls lovingly draped over his arms like some sort of cheap, gaudy jewelry. While Hanzo had invested his precious free time in the clan's interests, building and strengthening inter-clan (and sometimes even international) relations, Genji had gone off gallivanting in loud bass-pounding arcades and dark, dingy ramen bars, fruitlessly throwing money away "because it's the season of giving!" and making friends as easily as he lost them.

So Hanzo had been surprised-and-pleased, at first, when, after their father's passing, Genji had shown a marked interest in helping with the annual season of mirthful bribery-and-intimidation.

In hindsight, it should have been clear how quickly everything would have gone downhill.

'We will _not_ be serving our guests fried chicken,' Hanzo had growled, in a way he used to think came across as authoritative-and-dignified, but that had only made the young-foolish Genji dig his heels in.

They had been alone together in their father's quarters, Hanzo just-barely-filling the large void left behind the large, sturdy mahogany table that bore the weight of the family's precious accounts and reports, all dutifully recorded down to the last toilet break taken by each member of the household staff, and Genji idly running a finger over the very expensive cherry blossom tapestry next to the doorway.

'Now you are head of the family,' Genji had pointed out, flicking his bright, mischievous gaze over with a pleased smile. 'Here is your chance to finally make more of an impact on our lives, brother.'

'Do not drag our family's name into the dirt with all the rest of your frivolities.' By now, Hanzo's voice had raised in an angry warning, 'The clan elders will never allow it. I will not allow it.'

Undeterred, Genji had pressed on, his lofty, flippant tone dancing on the tightly-wound edge of Hanzo's hurt-and-anger. 'I'm sure Father would have loved to see our stuffy guests trying to eat chicken wings with dignity. He always found the holiday season so very dry.'

Hanzo has no desire to relive the angry-bitter argument of two brothers mourning a father's death in their own emotionally-constipated ways, so he breaks free from the memory of Hanamura, so distant yet so detailed, like a snow globe preserving each and every hurtful moment to be magnified under his self-critical eye.

Instead, he turns that eye to the spectacular sight of his cyborg brother dressed in green brambles, desperately trying to keep still while his android master balances a papier-mâché star, hot glued onto one of his orbs, on the top of his head.

He is not sure what compels him to remain silent, to watch the ridiculous display of naïve childish stupidity, but silent observance is what he chooses, lurking in the doorway like the Grinch ready to ruin their happy golden Christmas.

' _Genji_ —' The omnic cuts himself off, laughing. Hanzo has never heard an omnic's laugh sound so human before, but the omnic Zenyatta must be fairly extraordinary if he was able to tame Genji's wild spirit. Or, well, maybe he just had really advanced cybernetics.

'Do you feel the Christmas spirit now, Master?' Genji asks excitedly, and the sound of his unadulterated joy is so achingly familiar it sends a pang through Hanzo's chest.

Zenyatta hums contemplatively. 'Not quite. I have always heard that Christmas is best shared with company.'

And in that moment Hanzo understands: the omnic knows he is here, and this is an invitation to join in their oddball holiday celebrations. But the demons of his past hold him rooted to the ground where he stays hidden in the shadows, unable to take the first step forward to their remediation.

'I believe I saw your brother walk by the hallway. Shall we ask him?'

Let it be said that Hanzo had never completely trusted the shrewd omnic.

Now that he has no choice but to reveal himself (not because he wants to, not because he misses those bloodied-golden-years of even having a brother to abhor), Hanzo steps into the room, nervous fingers drawn to the bow strapped across his back by sheer force of habit. 'I heard you calling my name, omnic?'

Several green branches sail out the window in quick succession. Hanzo has never seen Genji strip anything from his body that quickly before.

'Please, call me Zenyatta.' The omnic's expression is serene as ever (of course it is, it's not like he actually has a face) but for some reason Genji is eyeing the omnic with the slightest hint of suspicion.

Yet it is to Hanzo that he voices distrust. 'Brother, please do not shoot my master.'

'Unlike some people, I am able to control where my arrows strike.' The retort comes so easily, more easily than the practiced motions of drawing a bow.

Genji's expression is hidden behind his faceplate, but Hanzo reads his surprise in the tiniest jump of his shoulders. 'Yes, well, I—'

'Genji,' Zenyatta interrupts gently, tapping his forehead with the ridiculous Christmas star, 'you are well aware of your brother's skill with the bow. Why do you antagonise him so?'

Suitably chastised, Genji dips his head in a small bow.

Hanzo watches the exchange with no small measure of fascination. The Genji of his youth would never have backed down so easily, not at the prompting of any tutor— perhaps not even at one of their Father's fearsome scoldings. But now his metal-encased brother is obedient, tamed before his very eyes.

The sense of wonder does not last long. 'Master, I find it difficult to respect the skill of someone I've personally witnessed shooting an arrow backward.'

Zenyatta has the cheek to laugh. 'Hold that thought, my student. Your brother's hands have left his bow.'

And Hanzo wonders if the omnic is playing some sort of trick on him, because it is true, his hands are now hanging awkwardly by his sides, but he has no memory of relaxing in their metallic presence. Yet his bow is now not-quite within his reach, and he finds himself walking forward to what is quite possibly an emotional death trap.

Zenyatta is there to exarcebate his suffering with his ridiculously soothing voice, of course. 'Lena mentioned that this will be your first Christmas with the team. Is there any kind of special observance your family partakes in? Genji,' Zenyatta nods at his pupil approvingly, and Hanzo notices his brother smiling but looking away, not-quite able to meet his eyes just yet, 'tells me that the Shimada family's Christmases were much grander than ours, both here and back in the Shambali temple.'

The omnic's formality makes the whole thing easier, somehow. Hanzo slips into an old persona, one that he had often used around this time of the year. Yet his lukewarm response is no less authentic beneath the affable mask of business. 'I am sure he also told you how dry he found them. He never showed his face for longer than strictly necessary.'

'True, but who was the one complaining to me about some esteemed emissary's table manners the very next day?' It is remarkable how clearly he can envision Genji rolling his eyes, even with a metal plate between them.

Before the conversation can devolve to senseless bickering (Hanzo had never thought he would feel a pang at the thought of _childish_ _nonsense_ , of all things) Zenyatta drifts forward and slots himself at Genji's side, at a spot where it just-so-happens he can whisper into Genji's ear (honestly, Hanzo has no idea what in the world is going on with the weird metallic rabbit ears and the ribbon-like thing dancing behind the nape of his neck, but it is not as if he has ever gotten comfortable enough to ask anyone) and Genji is visibly taken aback for a moment, before nodding uncertainly.

'Ah! Excellent!' Zenyatta's deep timbre practically sparkles with saintly joy. 'Forgive my secrecy, I was merely checking if dinner remains an important part of celebrating Christmas.' A lie, of course, even a fool could see that. 'Would you like to assist Genji in showing me what a "real Christmas" looks like?'

The omnic visibly jabs Genji at the side, and Hanzo finds it hard to keep a straight face when his brother immediately blurts out, 'You can pick the place, if you'd like. Though I don't know if we—' Oh, how interesting, Genji is looking at Zenyatta with uncertainty while remaining firmly plastered to his side, and Hanzo instinctively makes a mental note of it for blackmail material. 'Well, you know. Fancy places don't really... Like us. Very much.'

Maybe it's the omnic exuding peace and hope by Genji's side, maybe it's his brother's earnest lovestruck compliance, maybe it's even the Christmas spirit itself come to drive Hanzo to a grave of his own making, but he somehow finds himself agreeing, his traitorous mouth moving to form the words, 'I understand. Perhaps we could go somewhere simple, like... Like that fried chicken eatery Genji suggested, many years ago.'

This is ridiculous. He is being ridiculous. How would Genji remember something so insignificant and ancient, buried deep in the vestiges of their adolescence beneath a billion more-memorable memories—

But Genji is practically gaping at Hanzo, if the stunned slump of his body is any indication. 'You... You don't mean KFC, do you?'

Of course. Of course it had to be that awful unhealthy fast food restaurant. He always knew he could not trust his brother for anything-at-all.

But Hanzo swallows his pride (and makes a mental note to start training an hour earlier for a week, if he has to) and nods awkwardly. 'Very well. I suppose we will have to order... delivery?'

If the Christmas star perched atop Genji's head flickers warm-pleased-gold for a moment, no one has anything to say about it.

 

 

 

 

 

Later, after many, many buckets of fried chicken and awkward-but-serious eating competitions—

In the deep stillness of night, guided only by the light of the moon, Zenyatta drifts past the open door to Genji's room and pauses, peeking in. 'Did you like your present?'

Genji groans from where he lies uselessly on his bed, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his other hand remains clamped over his mouth.

Zenyatta makes a vaguely disapproving noise. 'All good things should be taken in moderation, Genji. Including fried chicken. Regardless of how elastic your brother's stomach may be.'

**Author's Note:**

> i will never get over christmas kfc
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_antikytheras)


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